“The wise man knows himself to be a fool,” Shakespeare (the fool).

In an article William Leith in 1991, DeLillo said, “I write to find out how much I know,” he said. “The act of writing for me is a concentrated form of thought. If I don’t enter that particular level of concentration, the chances are that certain ideas never reach any level of fruition.”

There are many ways within you, some carpeted with bright electric light, some slippery as stones strung through a pond. How very brave that you should venture forth despite reflections, murky and florescent; to uncover what you know.